


Don't touch, won't tell.

by AaliyahManira



Series: Love Thy Goalie [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Fluff, Hockey, M/M, National Hockey League, One Shot, Sex, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 14:39:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12866637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AaliyahManira/pseuds/AaliyahManira
Summary: Nick Foligno is a Captain and Sergei Bobrovsky is His Goalie.





	Don't touch, won't tell.

The game had been going well, overall. It wasn’t the best they’d ever played and no one would argue that, but they weren’t completely hopeless either. Sergei had been able to stop sixteen of the eighteen shots the Capitals had sent his way and was tracking the nineteenth when he felt the hit. He wasn’t sure who hit him exactly, because he’d been so focused on the puck, but the release came as he was going down and he barely had the time to snap his blocker up and send it away. He may not have been hurt, but he definitely wasn't happy.

If Sergei wasn't happy, Nick was downright pissed. He saw the hit, Sergei knew he saw it because he came flying down the ice without his stick and without a trace of concern for the fact that the puck was still in play behind him. Nick wasn’t the first one to grab the offending player, but when he skated up, everyone else backed off and took a man so their Captain could fight uninterrupted. Sergei said a small prayer for whoever ended up trying to keep Nicky Bäckström away and then he skated quietly to the corner, away from what was rapidly becoming a full team brawl. It was interesting to him to watch Nick fight Ovi. Interesting like a train wreck was interesting, because they were so different. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Holtby coming out of his crease and skating toward the red line.

At first, Sergei thought that Holtby was challenging him, coming to the center line to drop gloves and throw a few punches. Sergei didn't like that idea.

But, when Holtby stopped at the line, pushed his mask up, and motioned for him to come forward, he realized that wasn’t it at all. He tucked his stick under his arm and skated to the red line to join him. As Sergei approached, the linesman skated between them, hands up like he was intent on keeping them apart. Even the crowd seemed to have decided that they were going to fight. Holtby leaned back against the boards and exhaled.t.

“No fighting, just wanted to talk to him.” The linesman didn’t look inclined to believe him, but when Sergei took his place next to Braden—still on his side of the center line and equally as relaxed—the linesman backed off. “You've got bigger problems than us right now.” Braden gestured toward the fight, still raging full force in the corner, and the linesman skated away with one final look of uncertainty. Sergei was pretty sure that the crowd booed when they realized that there would be no goalie fight, but Sergei was relieved.

“How long?” The Capitals goalie asked, voice low as he watched Bäckström pull Ovechkin away and force him against the boards. They shared an intense look, but whatever Backy said took the remaining fight out of Ovechkin, who sagged and stopped fighting against the center's hands. Sergei angled himself toward Braden so they could talk without being overheard or having anyone read their lips.

“What you mean?” Braden laughed at him and took his mask off altogether to run a hand through his hair, dripping wet and plastered to the back of his neck with a combination of sweat and water.

“How long has have you two… you know?” He made a vague and slightly obscene gesture with his hands and put his mask back on top of his head. Sergei made a confused face and leaned on his goal stick. Braden spared him an amused glance and nodded in the direction of Foligno, who was skating toward them and holding his gloves under his arm. Sergei pushed his mask up on to the top of his head. When Nick reached them, he reached out and touched the side of his face with one bare hand.

“Are you alright?” Sergei nodded and tapped his shoulder with one gloved hand.

“Was a dumb hit. Am fine. You okay?” Nicky threw his arms around Sergei and only Braden could see the look of relief on his face. No one saw the matching look of enjoyment on Sergei’s because they were too distracted watching fight replays on the big screen, but it was there. Foligno pulled back and touched his forehead to the side of Bobrovsky’s helmet before he skated away to talk to the referee.

“I told you so,” Holtby said with a laugh, watching Nick skate away. There was a second of silence and then Braden started to skate back to his crease. He stopped when Sergei called his name, lingering about half way between the red and blue lines.

“Is not just my Captain that likes goalie. Your D-man too, maybe even your Ovi.” Holtby turned around to see Sergei looking at his teammates. Ovi was looking at him suspiciously and there was a dark bruise blooming along the crest of his cheekbone. Schmidt was looking at him too, like the strangest thing he’d seen all day was his tendie having social time at the center line with the tendie that had just caused a line brawl. The ref came forward to announce the penalty minutes and Holtby started to skate away again. As he reached the blue line, he stopped and called out to Bobrovsky.

"Bob!" Sergei turned and pushed his mask up, watching Braden as he floated slowly backwards toward his crease.

“Don’t worry,” he said, raising his voice so that it would carry down the ice. He pressed a bare finger to his lips, and offered Braden a conspiratorial smile. “Secret.” Holtby nodded and pulled his mask down to hide the smile stretching across his face as he skated back to his crease.  
 

  
“Sure you are okay?” They were walking together out of the arena and toward their hotel, freshly showered and still a few hours from feeling any real soreness in their muscles. There were others on the sidewalk, other people and other Blue Jackets, but no one was close enough to hear them or interested enough to try. Foligno shifted his bag on his shoulder and shoved his free hand into the pocket of his suit pants as they walked. Their hotel was only a few blocks from the arena, so they didn’t need buses to transport them to and from. Nick didn’t answer his question for half a block.

“Nicky?” Bobrovsky said finally, reaching out to touch just above the bend of his Captain's elbow. Nick looked at him. His blue eyes were dark and his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheekbones, but that wasn't what caught Bobrovsky's attention.

“I’m okay, really. I was afraid he’d hurt you. It was a hard hit. And you didn’t deserve it.” The last part fell into the space between them, heavier than it should have been, and neither of them said a word as they approached their hotel.

“Thank you.” Bob said quietly when Nick held the door for him. They walked into the lobby and boarded an elevator full of their teammates, pressed too close together in the small space. The ride up was short and they spent it listening to the others discussing the game in animated voices. When Dubinsky smacked Nick on the shoulder, Sergei saw him wince and swallowed hard, immediately angry that Nick hadn't told him he was hurt. The doors opened and they dispersed to their separate rooms, the sounds of conversation dying out as the distance between them increased. The door to their room had barely closed behind them when Sergei dropped his bag and turned to face his Captain, arms folded irritably across his chest.

“Shirt, off.” He took Nick’s bag and threw it on the ground next to his. When he turned back, Nick was unbuttoning the last of his buttons and doing his best to shrug the shirt off without wincing. Sergei stepped right up to him and pushed it off of his shoulders. The fabric made a pleasant sound as it crumpled to the ground and Nick made a pleasant sound when Sergei's fingers slipped under his undershirt and worked it up his chest. The bruises weren’t dark considering the tone of Nick's skin, but they would be when they’d developed fully and Sergei's heart skipped when he saw them. His Captain, his Nick, was hurt because he was defending him.

“Should have let it go.” Nick rolled his eyes instead of arguing and stepped around him to flop down on the closest bed. Bobrovsky watched him for a long moment and then walked over to lay down on his own bed, facing his tired Captain and still mostly dressed in his game day suit.

“What did Holtby want, when he called you over?” Sergei laughed softly and tried to fight the blush he could feel creeping up his chest.

“The ref thought he wanted to fight.” It wasn’t a lie necessarily, but it didn’t really answer the question either and they both knew that. Sergei hoped Nick would let it go, but he didn’t. When he realized Sergei wasn’t going to say anything else, he looked up from where he had his face buried in his arm and arched an eyebrow. Sergei sighed. “Asked about you.” Nick wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but that wasn’t even close. If the statement had been surprising, the look in Sergei’s eyes as he said it was a double shock. He looked embarrassed and there was a kiss of color high on his cheeks.

“What about me?” Sergei laughed and rolled on to his back, tucking his hands under his head and inadvertently pulling his shirt free of his pants to expose a stripe of pale skin. Nick watched him carefully, eyes wandering the length of the goal tender's body as he waited.

“He thinks you like me. Thinks I like you.” Nick’s breath caught in his chest and he felt color creeping up his neck. Instead of answering, he got up and went to the bathroom. He’d turned on the shower was pretending to be busy a few seconds later when Sergei came to the door.

“What do you want?” He barked. He didn’t mean to be short, knew Sergei was the last person he wanted to snap at, but he heard the way his voice sounded and he couldn't take the words back. He splashed his face with cool water and looked at Sergei in the steamy surface of the mirror.

“To tell you he was right.” Sergei shrugged and leaned against the door frame. The heat of the shower’s spray was filling the room, but it wasn’t the reasons Nick’s face was turning red, or the reason he felt the color climbing in his own, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to ignore it, wanted to turn around and deny every word, wanted to pretend the idea of it was insane. Instead, he pushed off of the counter and kissed his Goaltender with everything he had.

“Nick,” Bobrovsky breathed, catching hold of his Captain and digging his fingers into his skin. They stayed that way for what felt like a long time, forehead to forehead and chest to chest, enjoying the feeling of being closer than they ever had.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick said softly when the steam of the shower had completely filled the room. The moisture slicked their skin and intensified the heat between them. Sergei took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Nick, pressed against him.

“Afraid to lose you.” Foligno laughed and took Bobrovsky’s face in his hand. The second kiss was slower and gentler and when they broke apart, they were more breathless than they has been after the first. Sergei smiled and leaned forward to rest his head in the curve of Nick’s neck.

“That’s the most,” Nick started to say. Before he could finish his thought, Sergei bit down on his collar bone and pressed forward into him. Nick groaned as he felt the friction of Sergei’s body pressed tight to his own from knee to shoulder. What had been a slow burning heat in his belly erupted into a wildfire and he dug his fingers into Sergei’s hips. Sergei let go of his collar bone and looked up at him, all wide eyes and fake innocence. His breath caught.

“Were saying?” Nick grabbed his goalie by the hips, picked him up, and sat him on the sink. Sergei's legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer and he couldn't stop the groan that escaped his mouth.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Sergei captured his mouth in a searing kiss before he'd even finished his thought.


End file.
